


Photographic

by unmeiboy



Series: Silver lining [1]
Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Stranger Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 16:45:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5833036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unmeiboy/pseuds/unmeiboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fujigaya, trying to get over his ex, runs into Tamamori, a famous model, at a club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Photographic

Fujigaya enters the club with one thing in mind. Tonight is the night he's going to make an effort. Tonight, he's going to bring someone home, have meaningless sex with them, and he's going to enjoy it. It's been a while, but he needs it. Okay, he's not sure he _needs_ it, but he has tried everything else.

A while ago, Fujigaya's boyfriend dumped him. A while ago. More than a couple months. He doesn't want to count them. They had been together quite a while too. More than a couple years. He has counted those. The breakup had been fairly easy, because he had been pissed at the time, but just a couple days and it went from fairy easy to fairly difficult as fuck. Little memories still have his heart fluttering before they stab him right in the heart as he realizes he'll never have it again and he just knows that he needs to get over him. He's just not sure how.

Also, he needs to get out there. Sulking alone in his apartment won't make him happier, both his brothers have told him so and he figures it's true. He needs to meet new people, build networks that he doesn't connect to his ex. If everything he does makes him think of said ex, he'll never get over their breakup. At least he thinks so.

It's the first time he goes to a club alone. To be honest, he's not sure what to do since he's on his own, but figures he'll get a drink for starters. The bartender flashes his skills as he throws together liquors and slices of lime; not anything Fujigaya hasn't seen before, but it's still amusing enough. With said drink in his hands he starts searching for somewhere to people watch until the alcohol gets into his system, until he starts to feel like dancing.

Within the first fifteen minutes there's a fairly drunk girl clinging to his side, a girl who insists on getting him a drink even though he's clearly not done with his current one and it's obvious it's just a silly attempt to get him to take her home.  
“You're so handsome,” she blurts out, reaches out to touch his hair and he thanks her for the compliment, but makes sure she stays at a decent distance after that. They manage to hold a proper conversation and maybe she starts thinking that she's really getting somewhere with her very unsubtle flirting, because when he turns her down a last time she actually looks disappointed.  
“Please?” she tries, squeezes her breasts together with her upper arms like it'll make him agree.  
“Sorry, I'm, err.” He pauses, because he prefers not to say this, since it's something he tries not to think too much about. “I prefer men.” Fujigaya chooses his words in a way that's still open to interpretation, but the girl seems to get that she isn't what he's looking for. She leaves him, and only minutes later he can see her rubbing up against another guy on the dance floor, one that's a lot more happy about her approaches. He hopes that he's a nice one and that they both get what they want tonight, then he turns around and forgets about them, focuses on his drink.

It takes another fifteen minutes before he gets disturbed again; he spends some of the time chatting with the bartender when he orders another glass, but he's mostly just sipping on his drink by a bar table, checking his phone once in a while.  
“You here alone?” a voice says as someone touches his shoulder; when he turns towards them he's met by the sight of a man both younger and taller than himself, a handsome face that seems familiar, although he's a hundred percent positive he has never met him before.  
“Yeah,” he replies, takes it as a question to share the bar table he has to himself. The man doesn't say anything more, only moves along when Fujigaya moves to the side to make room for him.  
“Tamamori Yuta,” he introduces himself as, and suddenly it makes sense why Fujigaya thought he had seen him before. He's that model that all the girls and most of the gay men he knows is squealing over, the one that's on the front pages of most of the men's fashion magazines and occasionally even the idol magazines. One of his friends even claims he's the reason she ended up interested in fashion lately, and that says a lot because Fujigaya has been trying for quite a while to open her eyes up for how fun it can be.

It's not like he didn't know that celebrities come to this club sometimes, but he hadn't expected one to approach him.  
“I'm Fujigaya,” he says (doesn't know what else to say), “Fujigaya Taisuke.”  
“Nice to meet you.” An awkward silence falls between them; luckily it's not quiet around them, music filling the space while both of them sip from their glasses while trying to think of something to say. “You're handsome,” he says suddenly, and Fujigaya stiffens, because hello, who's the model here? It's almost unfair how Tamamori looks just as handsome before photoshop as he does after. Fujigaya knows, because he reads the fashion magazines, and would have gotten a number of other shoots shoved in his face even if he didn't.  
“... Thanks?” It becomes obvious what Tamamori means when Fujigaya catches the way his eyes wander up and down Fujigaya's body, seems to linger on his collarbones, visible since he didn't button his shirt all the way up. “You wanna dance when you finish that?” It's a standard, he supposes, but Fujigaya hasn't tried to hit on anyone in ages.  
“Why don't we just go straight to your place?”  
“What?” Fujigaya sputters. He had been ready to _make an effort_ , not to be picked up before he even finishes his second drink. It's almost mean, because he had prepared himself mentally and now it's being much easier than it should.  
“Sorry, maybe you're not into guys.” Now Tamamori looks ashamed but also scared, and Fujigaya realizes that he probably revealed something about himself that shouldn't public if his agency gets to decide.  
“No, I mean, I am, but, you don't know me?” He definitely didn't think celebrities went home with strangers just like that. Just like this.  
“Do I have to? You're hot and I want to get laid.” Fujigaya can't judge him for that. He did come with the same thing in mind. He's just not as confident. “But maybe I'm not your type.”  
Oh fuck it. “You're hot, I'm hot and we both want to get laid. You sure you don't wanna dance though?”  
“Only if it's a requirement before you to take me home.” Tamamori smiles, an awkward smile, and he assumes that he's not very confident about his dancing.  
“It is. Come.”

It turns out that Tamamori isn't a bad dancer at all; not a professional, sure, but he's moving in fluid movements. Perhaps he's just being self-conscious. They dance to a couple songs, Fujigaya isn't sure how many because he stops thinking about it when Tamamori puts a hand on his hips and an arm around his neck, comes closer but not close enough for Fujigaya to try and kiss him; he's not even sure he wants to kiss him, doesn't know if it's too emotional to do or if it's fine or if he should just bring him home already. Tamamori seems fine with not kissing, though, which makes sense when Fujigaya again realizes that he has a contract and fans and an agency that wants to keep scandals out of the magazines, and he doesn't attempt to after that. The only more intimate touch he gets is the slide of a hand, from hip to his ass, where it slips into his back pocket to squeeze firmly, then there's lips next to his ear and he shudders a nod when he hears the words he speaks.  
“Let's just go already.”

The moment they get their shoes off Tamamori shoves at him, not roughly but impatiently, and within minutes Fujigaya finds himself pushed down on his own bed as Tamamori tugs the clothes off both of them before he lowers his head, traces Fujigaya's thin build with his lips. Tamamori had looked tall and thin, but once undressed he's sporting quite impressive abs and strong shoulders, and he looks even better now that his eyes are dark with arousal and his fringe keeps falling in front of his eyes.

Tamamori gives head like it'll give him a promotion (which Fujigaya doesn't realize makes sense until he thinks about it the next day), lips tight around Fujigaya's cock as they move along it, tongue swirling in a way he has never experienced before. As if that wasn't enough he also moves in all the way, relaxes his throat and takes Fujigaya down it, breathing a little strained against the sensitive skin that his nose meets just above where his lips circle the very base of his erection. A few more seconds of that pressure and Fujigaya would have come, but Tamamori reads him like an open book, pulls back when his thighs start shaking and next there's a lubed up finger prodding his opening.  
“Let me in,” he mumbles against the inside of Fujigaya's thigh and just those words and a slow, deep breath, and Tamamori is sliding that finger in and out of him, easily adding a second when Fujigaya spreads his legs further; leans down to lick a stripe along his erection, makes a deep sound that reminds of amusement when Fujigaya's hips buck violently.

From then on he only works with his fingers, stretches Fujigaya until he's ready to beg for it, hands twisted in the sheets, hair in his eyes and breathing heavy; then it's all gone and Tamamori is so fast to get a condom on his own cock that Fujigaya is surprised when he's already back and pushing inside. The sounds he makes are just as gorgeous as his face, his body; even when he starts to sweat, when his hair gets messy and Fujigaya can't help but tangle a hand in it to pull him into a kiss. It's void of emotion and exactly what he needs, a hot man fucking him and it means absolutely nothing but physical pleasure. And it's _good_ , on top of that.  
“Harder,” he groans against Tamamori's ear after they break apart, gets immediate response and hears his own voice rise an octave, doesn't care to keep quiet because damn it, he deserves to get laid.

A hand grabs his arm and for a second he's grossed out by the thought of hand-holding during sex, but it turns out that Tamamori just wants a grip on his wrist to shove it downwards; it's an obvious hint and he curls his hand around his erection, gasps at the first touch and when Tamamori leans down to nip on his shoulder he loses it, feels nearly feverish as he comes. His eyes stay closed while Tamamori fucks him through his orgasm, after his orgasm, and he's still panting when he's no longer bouncing against the mattress.

He doesn't mind when Tamamori pulls out and away without a word, how he just ties the condom off and heads for the bathroom to get rid of it (and when he comes back out he has gotten his hair in order enough for it to be a stylish mess, instead of a messy mess). He doesn't mind when the first thing Tamamori does is to reach for his expensive brand clothes; in fact he enjoys the view, the stretch of Tamamori's muscles as he pulls his shirt on.  
“Don't tell anyone this happened.” Tamamori makes eye-contact with him as he speaks, as if to make sure he's really listening, puts on a mask in the process, finishes it off with a hat that goes so low that he'll be close to unrecognizable once he's outside in the dark. “And if you do tell anyone, it won't have happened.”

Fujigaya listens to his door closing behind Tamamori and realizes that while all he wants is emotionless sex, he at least wants to have it with someone who isn't going to deny it later.


End file.
